#take a note

[dimalink]

The titmouse-singer is having fun

Winter is already here. And the holidays are coming soon. For all the little animals who don't sleep. The most important holiday of the year is New Year's. It's coming soon. The titmouse isn't sleeping. She's jumping from branch to branch. And doing her usual winter things. Visiting the squirrels. And the crows. And playing with them.

There are lots of branches. Lots of snow. And lots to do. And soon the holiday will come. The titmouse had even forgotten about this day. But the squirrels and the crow reminded her. They are best friends. Squirrels prepare nuts for New Year's—they always do that. The crow is making tea. Lots of tea.

And now the titmouse is also running through the forest and singing songs. About winter days. The titmouse will sing songs to everyone for New Year's. There's a lot of snow on the branches now. And the forest is so magical. Winter is a magical time. When many other little animals go to sleep. Then they will ask. What happened in winter. The titmouse watches the forest. And takes notes. To tell everyone later. Its interesting stories. From the winter forest.

Today is such a magical winter day. She wants to have fun. Jump from branch to branch. And sing songs. She can gallop deep into the forest. The main thing is to return to the house before dark. Jump. Have fun. Sing songs. Who sings in winter? It's the titmouse. A singer. What else is there to do in winter? Just have fun and sing songs!

That's how she makes up songs over the winter. And then it will be interesting to listen to all of them in the spring. So that other animals wake up faster. The titmouse jumps from branch to branch. And observes how much snow there is around. How differently the snow covers the branches. This is also an interesting activity. Watching the winter forest.

The titmouse is all busy and happy. She greets another winter day. And the first signs of darkness appear. It has begun to snow. So magical. And warm snow. Winter is a wonderful time for winter birds. For the titmouse too! The titmouse is a singer, and it's a joy to behold in winter! While all the others are sleeping. So as not to waste time.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/

TUMBLR: https://dimalink.tumblr.com/ BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/ MASTODON: https://mastodon.social/@DimaLink

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

... green ...

[hellocrame]

Surround yourself with people who are good for your mental health.🌿🍃

[theres-something-complicated]

A New Zealand zoo encloses visitors in a cage truck and travels around the place with free animals

[hardcoregamer]

What Everyone Should Learn From Star Wars Battlefront II

There are several lessons for all sides to take away from Star Wars Battlefront II. Publishers need to learn to listen and not be so gung-ho about doing things designed to exploit their consumer base. Yes they need to make a profit, but what good are absurd profits if one destroys their relationship with their consumers? 

Check it out!

http://www.hardcoregamer.com/2017/11/19/what-everyone-should-learn-from-star-wars-battlefront-ii/279888/

[reinaiwaltz-blog]

Quentin Tarantino if you reading this please take a note 📝Christoph Waltz as Charles Manson

[savageleewriting]

Feeling For What’s Not There

You’re drawn into these little love letters I write; you draw yourself into the black spots between the words, your visage, your shifting physicality, haunting the shadows my text makes on the page.

I remember you; we haven’t met yet, but I know how you sweat and taste. That’s a little secret I carry with me into the dawn. I learned it from listening very carefully, very closely to everything you didn’t realize you were saying. 

I’m not the kind of boy you want to hold tight; I’m the kind of feeling you fight off, like when you’re too busy to acknowledge the pangs of hunger. You feel that soft rumbling around your hips and finger-tips? That’s where I’m living right now, in the empty places where you wish I was. 

This is the poem of fire that gets eaten up by the flame. What could be more perfect, like a closed loop of logic. I wish only that I could be so consistent, but I’m not like the fire, I’m ash on the wind. A smudge on your fingerprints, a scent that you almost recognize. 

Reaching for you now. You know exactly. how

I feel.